


your hand in mine (there's no warmth)

by jjaeni



Series: black sun au [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: ?????, Alternate Universe - Gang World, M/M, but yall junhuis smile is a thing of beauty, idk ive just wanted to write a gang au for awhile, junhui is referred to as both junhui and jun and idk why, no actual graphic descriptions of violence but its there, only tagging characters whose names are actually said, questionable morals, the wonhui is kinda implied?, this is a shitstorm already, wonwoos secretly whipped though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 17:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjaeni/pseuds/jjaeni
Summary: Wonwoo is an introvert, there's no way around it. So why, then, can he be found in a crowded club on a Friday night?or: the completely self-indulgent gang au that no one asked for!





	your hand in mine (there's no warmth)

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy i have no idea where im going with this but here we go! this series will probably end up being some short oneshots centered on different groups in the same universe ;')
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> please inform me if you think the rating should be changed, i honestly didnt know what to make it so ????
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> title (kinda) from fast pace by seventeen!

_Friday, October 20th, 10PM._

 

Jeon Wonwoo is unquestionably an introvert. He hates crowds, despises clubs, doesn’t care for drinking. If asked, he would choose being roasted over a bonfire by rabid monkeys over spending a night out in a crowded bar any day. Knowing this, then you may wonder why Jeon Wonwoo is currently sitting in a booth at Allure, a club for only the elite party-goers, for the sons and daughters of CEOs who choose to waste their daddy’s riches on alcohol and dancing with other well-off kids. Wonwoo isn’t anything close to a chaebol heir and wouldn’t consider for a second spending a cent to have a stranger’s sweaty hands on any part of him, yet here he sits at a booth in the back corner of the club, his crisp white shirt a beacon in the dim light and similarly sharp black tie just a tad too tight around his neck.

 

He wants to leave, the shitty techno music the club insists on playing is giving him a headache, and when Wonwoo mutters this sentiment into Junhui’s ear beside him, the dark-haired male grimaces in agreement.

 

“Should only be a little while longer though, didn’t Jihoon say Park Minsoo or whatever his name was would be here at 10:30?” Wonwoo glances at his watch. 10:27.

 

“His name is Park Minseo, by the way, and I hope he’s here on time, I wanna get this over with.” Wonwoo idly drags a finger through the condensation on his glass. Water, of course. An identical glass sits in front of Junhui. Drinking tonight would not yield the optimal frame of mind their job requires.

 

They stay silent through the next song, the deafening bass making it hard to hear anything anyway. Wonwoo can feel his stomach growling increasingly insistently. God, can’t Park show up already? He’s been craving chicken all day and his lack of breakfast and lunch is starting to catch up to him. Finally, it looks like Wonwoo’s wish is about to be granted, because just as the first few notes of the next equally terrible EDM song come blasting out of the speakers, a man dressed in an outfit not unlike the ones Wonwoo and Junhui are wearing slides into the booth, introducing the slight hints of pricey cologne to the stale air. Both sides of the table size each other up for a second before Wonwoo nudges his partner subtly under the table, and Junhui begins their rehearsed speech.

“Park Minseo, we represent Bla-” The man he’s addressing cuts Junhui off with a mirthless smile.

“Don’t worry, I know who you two are. Seungcheol’s boys. Moon Junhui,” he inclines his head in Jun’s direction, “and Jeon Wonwoo.” His gaze flicks over to Wonwoo before settling determinedly on the space between their heads. Wonwoo doesn’t know whether to be flattered or not that he knows who they are. “And I know what you’re here for. I don’t have it.”

Jun settles his chin on his hand and leans in slightly, face impassive as ever. “Is that so? That’s not what it sounded like when we spoke with Kim Daehyun last night.” Wonwoo searches the man for any signs of recognition at the name, and sees no visible cracks in the man’s confident façade. However, he knows from experience that inside, Minseo must be having a breakdown. Impressive, however, that he keeps his composure. Most of he and Jun’s other targets don’t hide their anxiety very well.

Minseo gives a single shake of his head, stubbornly unwavering. “I don’t have it. Ask Chae or Shin or any of ‘em, I don’t.”

Jun sighs quietly, the exhale lost in the still obnoxious music, although that’s faded to the background of Wonwoo’s awareness. He needs to focus. Wonwoo turns to meet the quick glance Jun throws him. They share a silent agreement. The weight of Minseo’s growingly skittish stare jumping between him and Junhui gives Wonwoo some twisted sense of satisfaction. _You really thought you’d get away with this? It’s time to reap what you’ve sown, Park Minseo._

They turn back to the now slightly squirming man across from them and Junhui uncrosses his legs under the table to face him fully. “Let’s get this straight. Park Minseo, we know from multiple sources that you were the one to intercept the shipment three nights ago, so cut the ‘I don’t have it’ bullshit already. We don’t want to make this harder for you or for us.” Minseo’s eyes shoot squarely to Junhui’s face now. “Then make it easy,” he snarls, “and leave me the hell alone.” That's the last straw and Wonwoo is done playing nice now, and he knows Junhui is too. With the kind of answers they've been getting from him, he won't be giving up any valuable information. They tried talking like Seungcheol wanted, now it’s time for doing.

They stand abruptly in unison, and Wonwoo swears he sees the blood drain from Minseo’s face. He scrambles backs into the corner of the booth, merely trapping himself further as they maneuver around the table to grab him, his mouth flopping open and closed uselessly. Wonwoo grips his right arm firmly, Jun does the same with his opposite, and together they haul him, writhing indignantly, out the unmarked door into the dark alley behind the club. The bouncers on either side of the door take in this scene, one they’ve seen all too many times, and slip wordlessly into the din of the club. Paying off Allure’s staff isn’t exactly inexpensive, but Seungcheol says it’s invaluable to their work and Wonwoo agrees.

The door slams shut behind the bouncers and now the only sound to be heard in the alley lit only by the weak moonlight is the faint clamor of the city and the desperate whimpers of Minseo, who keeps trying to recant. Too bad Wonwoo is beyond listening. Jun gives him a nod, and Wonwoo pulls out his knife. It isn’t his preferred blade, as he has to keep it hidden in public, but it’s sharp and gets the job done just fine.

As Junhui pins the man’s arms above his head and keeps him pressed against the wall, Wonwoo regrets his fashion choices. Why did he wear white? And why did he wear his new watch, the nice one that the strap wasn't broken on? The irrelevant thoughts slip from his mind as he approaches the now sobbing Minseo and gets to work.

 

 

_Friday, October 20th, 12AM._

 

“Ugh, Wonwoo, was it really necessary to be that messy? You both smell like sewer rats,” complains Mingyu, meeting the man in question’s eyes in the rear view mirror before returning his focus to the road.

“Shut it, Mingyu, it’s not like I enjoy being covered in blood either,” Wonwoo retorts, staring out the window. His clean white shirt is now soiled with dark stains all over the chest and sleeves. _Damn it. Nice dress shirts like this don’t come cheap. Plus I dropped my watch in the alley._  Wonwoo’s face falls into a scowl thinking about having to replace his things. Junhui gives a slight chuckle at the two. “At least it’s over and we don’t have to listen to that god-awful music anymore.” He turns from the passenger seat to flash Wonwoo one of his unfairly cute smiles. A smile like that doesn’t belong on someone who just helped murder someone, but Wonwoo is used to it by now. In fact, he thinks that statement, albeit slightly changed depending on the person, applies to almost everyone in Black Sun. He reviews all their faces before deciding that, no, none of them really look like they’d be hitmen or thieves, yet he of all people should know that looks mean nothing in this line of work.

He's shaken from his thoughts by the opening of car doors, meaning they’ve arrived back at their base, if you could call it that. Wonwoo gingerly steps from the car, making sure to keep his blood-stained clothes from touching the interior. Mingyu would lose his shit if anything were to happen to his baby. He trails after said driver and Junhui into the house, who are talking animatedly about some movie he hasn’t seen.

 

Immediately upon stepping past the doorway, someone latches onto his neck yelling, “Hyungs are back!” He removes Seungkwan’s arms from around him with a displeased, “I’m covered in blood,” and watches Seungkwan rebound toward Jun, who welcomes his embrace with a happy smile. More of the members begin to crowd into the entryway, and soon Seungcheol joins them, greeting them with a similar grin before it quickly melts into a more serious expression.

“How did it go?” The entryway quiets as everyone remembers business still needs to be taken care of. Junhui steps from where Hansol has already started chatting with him about god-knows-what, his content beam fading to match their leader's grim face. “He wouldn’t admit he did it, said to ask Chae or Shin or anyone about it. Even got a bit aggressive at the end.” Wonwoo nods in agreement, and Seungcheol muses over this information stoically even as the other members let out hisses of displeasure directed toward the rival group.

“Well, we’re going to need to do something about them sooner or later,” he says after a few tense moments. “Jihoon and Jisoo.” Two heads turn to face him and he gives them a nod. “You know what I’m going to say.” The duo heads down the stairs, Seungcheol a step behind, and the rest of the members start to disperse from the entry, many still muttering angrily under their breath about the other gang.

Wonwoo lets out a long breath. Tonight was a lot more being around other people than he would normally like, but definitely necessary. Those damn Serpents. They were getting way too involved in Black Sun’s business as of late, but the reckoning between the two organizations Wonwoo knew Jihoon and Jisoo were already planning out the logistics of had been a long time coming. A hand touches his shoulder and he wheels around to see Junhui directing him another soft smile. _Seriously, what the fuck, that’s the face of a kindergarten teacher, not an assassin._

“Wonwoo, you should go to sleep, I can wash your shirt for you,” he tilts his head slightly at the ruined shirt now hanging loosely from Wonwoo’s frame. “What about your own shirt,” Wonwoo counters, throwing a meaningful glance of his own at Jun’s torso, where although not as extreme, there are some definite bloodstains. Junhui says nothing, but extends his hand and shakes it a bit insistently. Childish, but it’s since it’s Junhui, Wonwoo somehow finds it endearing. Wonwoo waits a few more moments before cracking, just like he always does, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it into Junhui’s waiting arms.

He’s about to leave when Junhui says, “Wait.” He obeys, wondering what Junhui wants now. His pants? Something flies in front of him and his instincts, thankfully, tell him to catch it before it smacks him in the face. It’s his watch, the new one he’d been upset to lose. “I saw you’d dropped it, and I knew you’d be mad if you lost it.” Junhui gives him yet another sheepish smile. Wonwoo feels like the Grinch on Christmas Day, his shriveled little heart growing three times its size. And all Wonwoo can think is _Holy shit. I’m so fucking whipped._ Before he can make a fool of himself, Wonwoo spins on his heel with a “Thanks. Good job tonight, as always,” over his shoulder, casually as he can manage, as he turns down the hallway to his room, narrowly avoiding slamming into the wall, and it's the memory of Junhui’s face blooming in laughter, not the promise of an impending fight with the Serpents, that's on Wonwoo's mind as he falls asleep that night.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired in part by other gang aus, and also hip hop unit's mixtape vol 14 ;)))))
> 
> if you actually read this, thank you!! as i said earlier, i want to write more in this au with some other groups and have a few ideas already but if you have a certain group you want to see pls hmu!!
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> kudos and feedback of any type are also very much appreciated :'))


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